


Puffy Shirts Don't Spark Joy (Or Do They?)

by KetchupEnthusiast



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Clothing, Fluff, House Cleaning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27490813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KetchupEnthusiast/pseuds/KetchupEnthusiast
Summary: Tyler Breeze and Fandango have differing opinions on what's purge-worthy during a cleaning jag.
Relationships: Tyler Breeze/Fandango
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Puffy Shirts Don't Spark Joy (Or Do They?)

Tyler Breeze was on a mission: to eliminate anything unfashionable from his (and Fandango's, but barely) closet.

The pile on the bed was rapidly growing – colors of the year that were beyond passé, impulse buys that still had the tags on them, things that just didn't fit properly anymore. Tyler was showing no mercy.

As he made his way through the menagerie of clothing, Fandango entered the room.

“Hey, babe. What's up?” he leaned in for a quick peck, which was eagerly returned.

“Well, with all of this down time, I thought it would be a good idea to clean out our closet and get rid of the stuff that we don't wear anymore,” Tyler continued sorting through the clothes on the closet rod, shaking out a particularly dated jacket with a scowl before throwing it into the "to go" pile.

Fandango sat on the bed next to the clothes, content to just watch for a bit. Almost five years in and his partner still captivated him, even when he was doing something so mundane. After a while, he started rummaging through the pile of clothes on the bed, curious to see exactly what Tyler deemed unworthy of closet space. Something he saw caused him to pipe up with mild indignation.

“Aw, Breezy, no! Not our Gangrel shirts!” the blond turned around to see the items in question. Fandango held the shirts in his hands, shaking them for emphasis with a frown on his face. Tyler just huffed at him.

“Puffy shirts are _so_ three years ago, 'Dango,” Tyler airily waved his hand before turning back towards the closet.

“Yeah, but... we had some good times in those shirts,” the brunette countered.

Tyler spun back around to face his partner, appalled, “Good times?! The only memory that I have of those shirts is wearing them while getting pummeled by Kane on _Main Event_!”

__

Tyler once again turned back towards the closet, determined to continue his purging. Those shirts were getting pitched, whether Fandango liked it or not. A long beat passed with no speaking from either man, but eventually the brunette stepped closer, arms sliding around the model-turned-wrestler's waist. Fandango leaned in, hot breath bursting against Tyler's ear, his voice sounding even huskier than usual as he spoke.

__

“Yeah, but do you remember what happened later? After _Main Event_?”

__

Tyler shuttered his eyes. In glorious technicolor, the night in question popped into his mind's eye and a hedonistic smile spread across his face.

__

“We wore the shirts back to the hotel. That was the night with-”

__

“The baby oil. The jacuzzi tub. That beautiful balcony under the full moon..." Fandango purred.

__

Tyler looked over his shoulder at the puffy shirts, cast aside on the bed in all their silky glory. He made a decisive noise as he slipped out of Fandango's embrace. A velvet-coated hanger slid into the collar of each shirt and they reclaimed their place on the closet rod, though deliberately pushed towards the back. Tyler turned back to the dancer, who was beaming.

__

“Well, you never know,” Tyler shrugged nonchalantly, but he had a devious smirk on his face, “they might come back into fashion.”

__


End file.
